


Living the Dream

by MarisFerasi



Series: Ol' Irish and the Cowboy [4]
Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: Chores, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gentle Sex, Hand Jobs, Humor, M/M, Making Love, Snogging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-10 02:42:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18651277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarisFerasi/pseuds/MarisFerasi
Summary: POV of Cassidy as he swoons over Jesse and learns to make a little life with the preacher. Maybe borin' ain't the worst thing, after all.Set s1/Annville.





	Living the Dream

Cassidy jolts back awake when Emily starts playing the organ, the tinny sound of it echoing through the small sanctuary. His head snaps up from where he'd wilted backward over the pew backing. He must have drifted off after Jesse set him to his last early-morning task of straightening the pews back out from their little drinking session last night. Didn't even know Emily was here, let alone half the town. 

Heavy bootheels hit the wood floor with an audible thunk, drawing some annoyed, judgy glances before they slide away again.

Typical.

So he behaves accordingly, runs the side of his forefinger under his nose, loudly sniffing (away the last traces of powder that _may_ be there) and casts his eyes over the room behind his sunglasses, parsing out the attendance of the townsfolk today. 

There's that poor bloke Donnie with his broken arm and family. That wee redheaded brat of his and his weird, saucy wife. 

There's the fat sherriff and the arse-faced kid. Eugene. 

Emily's weans are playing with some such toys, keeping reasonably quiet for the mayor fella sat between them like a wannabe daddy. The littlest girl, Alice, turns her white-haired head and stares curiously at Cass, giggling behind her tiny hand when he suddenly makes a face at her.

The organ music suddenly takes form and then here he comes. Jesse Custer. Taking stage and lighting up the life of a poor creature like himself, down here in the dirt. Cassidy goes all soft; he feels his brain fizzle like butter in a hot pan as Jesse's voice breaks over the crowd and he begins his sermon with a tight smile and a narrow glance over his meager congregation. 

Every so often, his dark, _dark_  eyes flick over Cass' sprawled out person, taking over an entire pew (not that any of _them_  ever sit near him anyway) with a tiny, shy smile quirking his lips. Just for Cassidy. He smiles back at Jesse warmly, inviting other ideas, and Jesse's face hardens carefully before moving along. 

 _Not in front of them. That's for us_.

That face says more than Jesse ever will aloud. It screams everything from _i'm afraid_ to _this is Texas_ , and every little niggling fear in-between. So Cass clears his throat quietly, getting up and slipping out the back doors as silent as you please. 

To anyone else, he's headed for a piss, maybe. Or something shady. They are all suspicious of the skinny, drunkard Irishman who suddenly turned up and moved in with their preacher, after all. 

Drawing Jesse over to the dark side, likely.

But in actuality, Cass has a bit of mischief on his mind that's _entirely honorable_ , thanks. He lights a cigarette from Jesse's nearly-empty pack (picked from his pocket earlier in a heated little storage closet snog while they were hiding from Emily-- and supposedly fetching the communion wine), opens his umbrella, and steps out into the sunshine, headed for Jesse's little house across the dusty lawn. 

* * *

 

"Cass?" Jesse calls out, the side door closing with a _snap_ and locking just before Cassidy hears his jacket and boots hit the chair and floorboards with a soft thump. He grins into the soapy water closed up around his elbows and waits for the preacher to search the bedroom and bathroom (honestly, the most likely places he'd be found midday) before finally ending up in the kitchen. There's a moment of silence, and then: "What the hell's all this?"

"All this" turns out to be two plates laid out with Cassidy's specialty: rare-grilled ribeye steak, grilled corn cobs, some sort of mayo-based cold salad he found in a styrofoam cup in the fridge, and rolls. Jesse eyes it all hungrily. Still, he gravitates instead for the vampire currently washing dishes. Cass has draped a thin throw from the sofa over the curtain rod to darken the sink area from the high sun. Jesse snorts at the rigging and shakes his head. He's pleased and starting to feel generous, himself. 

Mmm. Right where Cass wants him. 

Jesse's hands close warm and confident over sharp hip bones and draw the Irishman back to meet him, turning him for a kiss (which Jesse quickly turns heated and pushy. He's been hot for it all day). Cass breaks away with a chuckle, fingers dripping little puddles onto the linoleum, and nods toward the table. 

"Dig in, padre, I made dat special fer yeh," Cass whips a dish towel out of his pocket and dries his hands and arms, watching with a pleased grin as Jesse does as he's told and attacks the meal. He's halfway through his ribeye when Cassidy drops two beers on the table and sits opposite. The cole slaw ( _ah, that's what it was_ ) is quickly deemed "no good," and tossed, but Jesse cleans his plate of the rest and steals one of Cassidy's rolls. The vampire likely won't eat it, anyway. Meat is good enough for him. 

This table has seen a lot of them, recently, and Cass gives the worn, ancient melamine top a small smile. He drinks his beer and chews his bleeding-red steak, enjoying the sudden simplicity of watching his mate enjoy a meal that-- for once-- doesn't involve Emily or Tulip eyeing him like a stray dog, and the calm silence of a Sunday afternoon. 

Jesse waves a drooping Cass away and cleans up after their meal, washing the plates and flatware while Cassidy moves slowly to the sofa, another two beers in tow. He sprawls across the length of it, searching for something to watch, feeling more sleepy than anything, now.

"That was delicious. Thank you," Jesse says when he steps into the living room, stretching his arms up and yawning loudly. He shakes out his limbs after and peels off his black shirt and belt and kicks off his pants, finally full and ready to relax. Cass nods and tips his beer bottle at Jesse with a wink, letting his eyes drift over the man. 

How the hell did he get so lucky as to land in this shithole town, and manage to find it's _only_ attraction? Because Jesse should have the congregation of all of Texas on their knees, he's so unfairly handsome. Cass has seen a _lot_ of gorgeous folk in his long life, but none have been so gaspingly hot, mysterious, and brutally good in bed as his new partner, here. 

Jesse sees Cass looking too long and drops a hip, winking devilishly as he launches himself onto the vampire. 

" _Jaysis!"_  Cassidy fusses, shoving playfully until Jesse is nestled reasonably atop his chest, laying down long and lean between Cass' legs with his arms tucked up under the vamp's skinny ribs. "Why're you so riled up, padre? I just wanna lay 'ere wi'yeh," Cassidy yawns, tired in the midday heat and losing steam. "We're all full, chores're done. Time teh fall asleep like'a coupl'a old fellas."

Jesse snorts and tucks his head under Cass' chin, wriggling their legs and hips until he's on his knees with Cass' long legs hooked over his hips. He runs his hands down the vamp's torso, smoothing the old tee shirt and then shoving it up so he can smash their bare chests together, humming at the sensation of warm skin-on-skin. 

"Yore old. I'm fine with a lil sunday nap, but I also wanna _come_. Let's do my thing first, then we kin do yours, deal?" Jesse is nibbling up the underside of Cassidy's chin, chipping away any resolve he may have (not!) had in ignoring Jesse's blatant arousal. 

As much as this cowboy of his loves action and drama, he also loves domesticity and romance. And damn, if that doesn't fuel Cassidy's fire to hell-temps, nothing else will. He groans and pulls his shirt the rest of the way off, letting Jesse shimmy their boxers down so he can get a hand around them both. 

"Shite," Cassidy hisses, bucking up against the blood-hot contact of Jesse's fat prick against his own, smashed tightly together in Jesse's smaller grip. He flexes his hips, helping create a stride that the Texan soon matches and then increases to a blistering pace.

Jesse's more desperate to come than he's letting on, so hot for it. He starts to pant against Cassidy's throat, nipping lightly. 

Cass stretches his spine, rubbing their bellies together briefly as he makes his neck long and easier to attack. He loves being bitten, at least by dull, human teeth. Lucky for him, Jesse tends to get a little animalistic more often than but--

His musings are interrupted by Jesse's hips stuttering in his rhythm, hand slowing to squeeze more than act as a channel, and he's coming with a growl, Cass' flesh still in his teeth. 

As soon as he's done, Cass rolls them, making Jesse stroke as he frots against his mate on knees and elbows above Jesse. " _Kiss me_ ," Cass demands, breathing hard, but out of excitement and wanting to breathe the mixture of  _them_ in, rather than exertion. 

Jesse complies, tightening his hand around the vamp's cock as he leans up to capture his mouth, licking inside as Cass opens on a groan. He flicks his tongue up behind Cassidy's canines, teasing the vampire into rutting harder and faster until he finally shudders to a stop. The hot blurt of his come mixes with the cooling puddle at the base of Jesse's cock. 

"Good lord, hang on," Jesse chuckles when Cass goes limp, his joints spooling loose and uncoordinated as he collapses face-first into the sofa. The preacher has to shove at him to get untangled, determined to wipe them off, even with only the edge of Cassidy's shirt as a cloth. He gets reasonably clean (since he's the one covered in jizz) and settles back against Cassidy. 

"Go ta sleep if ya want," Jesse murmurs, sated and growing sleepy, but unwilling to nap. He nestles his hips down and back as Cassidy turns to spoon him, letting Jesse face outward to watch the TV burble along some black and white western film. He twines his arm under the pillows and the other across Jesse's ribs, holding him close, and kisses the back of his neck after another bone-trembling yawn. "Old man," Jesse snorts, turning his face back to accept a kiss to his cheekbone as Cassidy himself and drifts off, lazy as can be with the sun high in the sky, a full belly, and having freshly came. 

Jesse watches John Wayne and thinks, fleetingly, that Sundays sure have gotten sweeter since Cassidy landed in Annville. 

**Author's Note:**

> I just can't help it, I want the fluff. I need the fluff.


End file.
